His Everything (Not Just Friends 2)

Of course she never had, but the image of what she’d look like naked, waiting, needy for him, slammed into Ace’s head with so much force he braced a hand on the tiled wall before him. His cock jerked forward, punched out hard and demanding, and he felt like a sick fucking bastard. He shouldn’t be thinking about Lauren when he was juiced up like this, needing a fight to feel pain and give in.

Groaning in frustration he quickly washed, stepped out and towel dried off, then went over to his bag and got dressed. He’d work until he was exhausted, spend the evening with her and enjoy the light she shed on his darkness; and he hoped he’d be able to control himself enough that he didn’t ruin what he already had with her.

2

Lauren stirred the cream sauce that would go over the chicken. She tasted it, wrinkled her nose, and added more salt. She made dinner for Ace several times a week, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She had other friends she spent time with, had the bookstore she helped manage with her mother, but Ace was her one true connection in this world, as strange and ridiculous as that might sound to some people.

They’d gone through a lot over the many years they’d known each other. There had been ups and downs, times where she grew frustrated that he couldn’t push himself to move forward. But then she told herself she’d never experienced what he had, and getting frustrated with him was not what she should be doing.

After making sure the table was set, turning off the oven but letting the food stay in there to warm, she went into the bathroom to clean up. She had her long strawberry blonde hair up in a messy bun, had sauce on her cheek and neck, and quickly cleaned off her face with some water.

The truth was she didn’t just make these dinners because Ace was her friend. Her love for him had grown over the years, and she hoped that maybe one day things would progress. But Lauren also didn’t want to ruin what they had.

So she’d taken her time with things, let him lead the way, and if he ever wanted to move things along to a more intimate level she’d tell him that was what she’d been waiting for.

Lauren dried off her face, then let her hair down but put it in a loose braid. After she finished putting on a little eye makeup, she heard the sound of Ace pulling into the driveway. Leaving the bathroom she watched him through the living room window as he climbed out of his vehicle, all six-foot-three inches of him. Even though he worked as a construction contractor and did hard labor, he also worked out religiously. She knew it wasn’t just to keep in shape, but the fact he needed that release to help calm the darkness within him.

He walked toward her front door, his big body moving like some kind of damn wild animal. Yeah, she’d gone there, but it was true. In the last four years he’d gotten his tattoos finished, meaning he now had full sleeves on both of his arms, and even the majority of his chest was covered. She hated that he felt the need to try to cover up what had happened, but she also knew why he had to do it. Ace needed that for himself.

She opened the door before he even reached it, and her smile faded when she saw the look on his face. He was in one of those moods. It was the kind that she’d witnessed hundreds of times over the years, the kind that pulled him down and held on tight. He was depressed, living in the past, and she could see how tense his body was.

Sometimes this happened, not always, but when it did she knew that what he needed was to know he wasn’t alone. Some people wouldn’t have stuck around, wouldn’t have bothered with a man they saw as “too damaged” to be loved. But Lauren saw something so special and warm in Ace, and to her he was the one for her.

“Hey, Poppy.”

She smiled at the term of endearment he called her on occasion. It made her feel warm and fuzzy, and even closer to him.

He came up to the front door and smiled, just a sad smile that barely had the corner of his mouth lifting. She looked down at his knuckles, saw they were bruised and scabbed over, and knew that over the last couple of days he’d been fighting extra hard. He was either not protecting himself at the gym, or he was doing the back alley bare-knuckle fighting.

“Ace—”

“Not now, Poppy.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and then moved past her and into the house.